El's eyes flew open, looking around the dark room in a panic, trying to find what had woken him. He glanced at the man next to him, carefully noting his ragged breathing. Ex-CIA agent Sands had, somehow, beyond El's guesses, caught a nasty cold in the middle of the hot Mexican desert. It had gotten worse in the last few days, but Sands refused to see a doctor. Although Sands wouldn't admit it, El knew he was afraid of being turned over to the CIA. El leaned his head back, closing his eyes and sighing.

"No," Sands moaned, moving his head to face El. El watched him, finally realizing that Sands was still asleep by his currently even breathing. Since it was impossible to tell by the man's missing eyes if he was awake, El had trained himself to rely on his breathing to figure it out. El heard him gasp and then fully turned toward him.

"Are you awake?" El whispered, just in case Sands was still asleep.

"What the fuck do you think?" Sands murmured quietly, his breathing heavy. El partially smiled, glad to know Sands wasn't too badly sick to have lost his attitude. He ran a hand down Sands' arm, dismayed to find the man shivering.

"Nightmares?" he asked. Sands nodded, moving closer to El and layed his head on his shoulder.

"Yes," Sands said, trying to get a control on his breathing. El smoothed the man's hair back from his face and laid a cool palm across his forehead. He still had a fever and was no doubt the cause of his chills. Sands shifted slightly, finding a comfortable position in the slightly small bed. He pulled the blanket up further, trying to burrow underneath it, trying to keep what heat he felt in place.

"You still have a fever," El said quietly a moment later, absently stroking the man's hair.

"As if I couldn't tell?" he asked sarcastically, "fuck, it's cold in here." El glanced at him and shifted so he was facing Sands. He wrapped an arm around Sands' waist and drew him close.

"Better?" he asked. Sands lifted his chin as if looking at El.

"Yeah," he said sleepily, already beginning to drift off to sleep. El stroked one finger down Sands' face and over his delicately shaped cheekbones. Sands raised his chin slightly and hooked his hand behind El's neck, bringing the man's lips down onto his own in a searing kiss. After a few moments, El pulled away and looked down at Sands' flushed face and the slightly parted lips.

"A kiss can cure anything, huh?" he mused, leaning back against the pillow. Sands smirked and relaxed against El.

"Yeah, but if I get you sick, don't blame me."